Precious Things
by HelpComputah
Summary: To Spike, it seemed like things were going from bad to worse. Had he really lost everything important to him? A series of unfortunate events might just open his eyes to what's been there all along. SxF
1. One

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Cowboy Bebop (besides the DVD series of course)…

**_Precious Things – Chapter One_**

"Spike! Ten's making a break for it! He's headed towards the front exit!"

Faye Valentine's shrill voice ringing in his earpiece was doing nothing to ease the splitting, hangover-induced headache that was plaguing Spike Spiegel. "You let him get away?"

Her response was little more than an irritated growl. "Just shut up and head him off, God damn it!"

Scowling to himself over the way his shrewish comrade was ordering him around, Spike quickened his pace as he rounded a bank of slot machines, currently manned by a rather dull looking quartet of jockeys sporting an impressive array of five o'clock shadows and bad comb-overs. The main entrance to the Casino was still thirty meters away, with a fair amount of guests milling about in between. He bulled straight ahead, unapologetically bumping into more then a few patrons along the way. Fifteen seconds later, he found himself standing in the shadow of the entryway.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"I don't know... I lost sight…" her voice cut away abruptly, and was replaced with the sound of scuffling for a moment, followed by her voice again, much louder this time. "No! Why don't _you _watch it, asshole!"

Spike winced and rolled his eyes as he quickly imagined the scene, with Faye giving her usual bitchy stare straight into the face of whomever she'd just bowled into. Of course, he couldn't picture the victim as anything other than a doughy, greasy Italian in a cheap suit. The vision brought the slightest of smiles to his lips.

"This place is such a fucking zoo!" ranted Faye, which Spike tried his best to ignore on behalf of the pounding in his temples. He was intently eyeballing the large Saturday evening crowd of people before him, trying to get a visual on their bounty, even resorting to a few quick hops to try and spot him over the heads of the others obstructing his view.

"I still don't see him!"

"He'll be there any second, trust me!"

Spike pulled his Jericho from its holster, keeping it hidden behind his blue suit jacket. Just as he was about to ready himself for the impending confrontation, something in the crowd caught his attention. It was a familiar face, pale and pretty, with blue eyes framed by long locks of blonde hair.

_Julia…_

His pulse quickened, and a cold sweat broke out over his entire body, as scattered images of his fallen love shattered his train of thought in an instant. His mind was suddenly transported back to the rainy rooftop where her life had so violently ended before his eyes. Her final words echoed in his head.

"_This is… a dream…"_

_Yeah… Just a bad dream. _

His tortured reverie was broken as quickly as it had started by a heavy impact on his left side. He found himself face down on the worn granite tile, as screams and shouts echoed throughout the area around him.

"Spike… Spike! What the hell's going on over there?"

Faye's shouts emanating from his transceiver instantly brought the bounty hunter back to reality. He quickly jumped to his feet and turned to face the doorway, only to find himself staring down the barrels of two pistols, both held by the diminutive Chen Li Ten, their bounty, who was far more dangerous than his short stature let on. The weapon in his right hand was a Beretta Model 84, and in his left was a Jericho 941, a most familiar sight to Spike Spiegel.

Suddenly, he realized that it was a little _too_ familiar.

"Hey, that's my gun!" He said, extending his index finger towards the weapon in Ten's left hand. It occurred to him that he'd never looked more stupid than at that very moment.

"No shit!" spat the small man, followed by something unintelligible to Spike's ear. "Stand back!" Ten jerked the guns toward the bounty hunter, and he slowly complied, and then raised his hands into the air slightly.

Spike locked onto the Asian man with a cold, hard stare. "You're going to give me my gun back, _Chen._"

"I don't think so, _Cowboy_!" replied the now crazed looking bounty head. "But I'll be nice and let you keep a bullet as a memento!"

Before Spike could react, Ten aimed the Jericho towards the floor and pulled the trigger, discharging a single .45 caliber round straight into the bounty hunter's right foot. The immediate rush of pain caused Spike to stumble and by the time he regained his balance, Ten was gone, along with his precious 941.

Hobbling, Spike made his way to a fake looking marble column and leaned against it to get all weight off of his injured foot. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a long, frustrated sigh. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself staring at a well dressed Faye Valentine.

She raised her palms and gave him an incredulous, questioning look. Spike merely closed his eyes again. He knew he was never going to live this one down. He could only hope that she had been too late to physically witness the definitive low point of his bounty hunting career.

"What the hell happened?" She finally asked.

"He got away from me."

"Obviously!" replied Faye. "Jesus Christ, Spike!"

Spike kept his eyes shut, hoping it really was all just a bad dream.

"Well?" continued Faye. "How in the hell did you let our four million woolongs get away?"

He still didn't answer, and she let out her own discontented sigh. "Sit down" she said, but predictably, the man ignored her. "Come on, Spike. I need to look at that foot."

Opened his eyes slightly, Spike pulled out a cigarette and immediately lit up. Once his raging nicotine craving was momentarily sated, he slowly removed his overly warm suit jacket and took a seat on the floor with his back to the pillar behind him.

Faye knelt before him and began digging through her compact but well stocked purse, removing gauze and a tiny pair of scissors, as well as a small packet of antibiotic ointment. She looked at the neat bullet hole in center of his shoe and thought to herself that he had definitely gone back into action too soon. Glancing up at his face, she was somewhat taken aback by the miserably dejected look he wore. She quickly turned her attention back to his foot.

"Take your shoe off."

"Huh?"

"Take your shoe off." She repeated. "I'm not going to do it for you."

Spike groaned and did as she commanded. Upon removing his footwear, he found his dark blue sock was soaked in blood, which was dripping onto the gaudy red carpet below. Once that was out of the way, he looked up at Faye, and quickly noticed that she was staring at his chest. Specifically, she was eyeing the empty shoulder holster that normally housed his Jericho. He immediately regretted the fact that he'd taken off his coat.

"Spike…" _Here it comes… _"Where's your gun?" She gave him the most quizzical of stares as she poured some of the liquid from a bottle of drinking water onto the wound. He said nothing.

"What, did you forget it or something?" she said with a chuckle, which she knew wasn't possible, as she and Spike had readied their weapons together back on the Bebop, as had become a sort of tradition prior to a hunt.

"Not exactly…" was Spike's reply, his eyes traveling down towards his injured foot as his cheeks became uncharacteristically pink.

"Don't tell me that Ten took it…" said Faye. Spike kept his gaze averted. His silence only confirmed her suspicion.

"Oh my god."

Faye couldn't help but laugh at how far the mighty Spike Spiegel had fallen. "Let me guess… Ten took your gun, and then shot you with it."

Spike continued to look away, and she noticed that his face was now burning crimson, which was a site to behold in and of it self.

"Jesus…" said Faye in astonishment, and then she began to laugh again, much harder then before. "…the great Bounty Hunter, Spike Spiegel, shot by his own pistol… Christ… Jet's gonna shit when he hears this!"

She was beginning to tear up as Spike looked away in disgust. He'd never seen her laugh like that before, and of course, it was all at his expense.

_This is no dream… it's a God damned nightmare. _

"Hurry up with the bandage…" He growled. It took another ten seconds before Faye could gather herself enough to continue.

"Hey, look on the bright side..." said Faye as she began spreading triple-antibiotic on the entry wound.

"The bright side?"

"Yeah." she replied. Her application of ointment switched to the exit wound. "At least you didn't shoot _yourself_ in the foot."

More laughter.

Spike rolled his eyes again and began staring into the crowd. Suddenly he spotted the haunting blonde woman from before, who was now giving an almost teary-eyed account to one of the Casino's security personnel. He began to study her face, and he found that any resemblance to the enigmatic woman from his tortured past was fleeting at best. Letting out a deep breath, he closed his eyes once again and leaned his head back against the marble.

_Julia was much more beautiful… _


	2. Two

I don't own Cowboy Bebop…

_**Precious Things – Chapter Two**_

After enduring a healthy dose of ribbing from Jet and Faye during the 'debriefing', Spike found himself alone in the main living area of the Bebop. In his left hand was the bullet that had torn through his foot, which he'd found wedged in the sole of his shoe. The round hardly seemed threatening now, but the throbbing pain radiating from below reminded him that it had been a more than capable dealer of destruction and death not long ago.

Ten had been smart, going for a safe wound rather then a potentially deadly shot anywhere above the knees. Even a simple shot to the upper leg could have easily severed his femoral artery, which would have ended his life rather quickly.

Spike dwelt on that thought for a moment in morose fashion, which had become typical for him over the past few months. He imagined the bullet, from his own gun no less, ripping through his thigh. Blood would have spurted quite profusely from the wound, and he would have bled to death within a minute or two, tops. It wouldn't have felt foreign to him, as Spike was one of the few who'd experienced that kind of heavy blood loss and had lived to tell about it.

Of course, the last thing Ten needed was a bunch of angry bounty hunters gunning for him, which is why he'd gone the non-lethal route, allowing him to make his getaway fairly cleanly. Killing Spike would have been too risky, as bounty hunters had been known to rally together in the past when one of their own bought the farm at the hands of a wanted man, and Jet certainly had enough friends in the community to make life miserable for a relatively small-time thug like Ten.

No, Chen Li Ten definitely wasn't that stupid, though Spike figured he was more lucky than good. Regardless, the man was still at large, and with a token of his good fortune in Spike's favorite sidearm within his possession. The mere thought disturbed and angered him, but worst of all, it was downright humiliating.

However, such feelings only served to strengthen his resolve, and as he examined the small projectile one final time, he made a silent vow to get his Jericho back, no matter what it cost him.

* * *

While Spike ruminated on his loss, Jet was busily manning the bridge. In between a few orbital corrections, he hunted for information on various bounties, including Ten. A decision needed to made on whether to continue pursuit of Ten or move on to potentially greener pastures. Naturally, he already knew what Spike's choice would be. Even a more lucrative bounty would likely faily to sway his lanky partner.

"He wasn't ready" said a female voice.

It was Faye, of course; she'd slipped onto the bridge unnoticed. The balding bounty hunter glanced up from his bridge console, finding her framed in the light reflecting through the large observation windows. She was watching the rust colored surface of Mars slowly pass beneath them with a solemn look on her face.

"No, he wasn't." he replied.

Faye turned to Jet, whose chiseled visage was illuminated by the blue light of the monitors before him.

"You think he'll ever get over it… over _her?_" she asked.

Exhaling, Jet leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. "They say that time is the best medicine."

Faye chuckled ever so slightly. "_They've _never met Spike Spiegel." she said, turning back towards the Martian landscape. "Even if what you say is true, I don't think he'll let himself get over it. He's too damned stubborn for that."

"Maybe… however, he's made it this far, hasn't he?"

"He was only a loose screw or two away from being killed today..." replied Faye, as her gaze slid towards the floor. "God… if Ten had had nothing to lose, he'd have splattered his brains right there in the lobby."

"He looks so lost sometimes…" she continued after a brief pause. "Even at the Casino… it's like when he looks at you, he's not looking _at _you, but _through_ you, like he's seeing something that isn't really there."

Glancing back at Jet, Faye noticed his small grin. "What, do you find this amusing?"

"If only Spike knew just how much time you've spent worrying over him…" said Jet, as he mused once again over the subtle but significant changes he'd noticed in Faye since she'd regained her memory.

"I just don't want to see him get killed… especially after all that's happened. You and Spike are all…" Faye's voice became quiet as she lowered her eyes to the floor once again. "…you're all I've got… as sad as that is."

Jet said nothing in return, and a brief silence settled over the two bounty hunters. Faye turned her attention back to the window as the Bebop passed from day into night.

"So doesn't any of this make you even a little concerned?" she finally asked.

"If you're referring to what happened at the Casino… No. It doesn't"

His response elicited a short growl from Faye. "It was a fucking debacle!" she exclaimed, facing Jet once again with a look of frustration. "How can you just ignore that?"

"Hey, quiet down!" He snapped. "I'll tell you why I'm not concerned. If there's one thing Spike's been able to maintain through all of the garbage he's been through, it's his pride as a man. That's not something to be taken lightly."

"What are you getting at?"

"He was obviously humiliated out there today. He's embarrassed; you and I both know it. He's not going to fold that easily. Like you said, he's stubborn."

She folded her arms across her chest. "So what do _you_ think is going to happen?"

"I think this will motivate him. You know, light a little fire under his ass. Honestly, I think this was exactly what the doctor ordered; A nice, swift kick in the behind."

"Well that's certainly an optimistic way of looking at it." She mumbled. "I don't think things are that rosy, but I hope you're right."

A quiet calm once again came over them as Faye looked down at a large cluster of tiny lights that was Tharsis. Several smaller groups of lights surrounded it, which represented the outlying suburbs and industrial sectors in the region.

"So how much did you lose at the Seven Feathers?" asked Jet, his attention back to the consoles before him.

"You're assuming I lost money." She said with a self satisfied smile. "I won over four grand."

"Wonders never cease… Just don't let it go to your head."

As Faye was formulating a witty retort, a shudder and vibration beneath them brought their little exchange to a screeching halt. They both knew what it was; the hangar door was opening. Moments later, another vibration followed by a flash of light signified the launching of a ship from the front deck. It was obviously the Swordfish II.

It was Jet's turn to look smug. He closed his eyes and smiled as Faye nearly leapt to the communications panel. "Spike, where in the hell do you think your going?"

"Just stepping out to do a little shopping…" was his slightly distorted reply.

"Shopping?"

"Yeah. Don't wait up for me… _Honey._"

"In your dreams…" muttered Faye as she cut the connection. She turned and faced Jet. "He's lost his mind. An hour ago he could barely walk, and now he's going _shopping_?"

"See? What did I tell you?" said Jet with a low chuckle. "He hasn't done anything but lounge around for months, but you put a bullet through in his foot, and he's out running errands. I should start shooting him every so often just to get my money's worth out of him."

She grinned. "You know, that's not a bad idea. I wouldn't mind taking a few shots myself. Nothing serious, a simple shoulder wound ought to do the trick."

"Now you're talkin'."

The pair shared a short but amiable laugh, and shortly after, Jet left the bridge to go throw something together for them to eat, while Faye returned to her favorite spot, watching and waiting for the sun to rise again over the Martian horizon.

* * *

Memories… lots of memories… most of them bad.

They bombarded Spike from nearly every angle inside the small gun shop.

He glanced at a Browning Hi-Power, and thought of Roco Bonnaro and his sister, Stella. He briefly wondered how the poor girl was doing. She'd regained her sight, but had lost her doting brother in the process; A lousy trade, indeed.

On the wall behind the counter was a Heckler & Koch USP. It reminded him of Gren, whose life had many tragic parallels with his; they were both befriended and betrayed by Vicious. Spike had expected his own story to end in similar fashion… funny how his best laid plans tended to blow up in his face in interesting ways.

The Beretta Model 92 to the right brought back more memories, as he'd carried one during his years in the Syndicate. Later, Annie had given him one just before he'd gone to confront Vicious after Faye had gotten mixed up with him. It had disappeared either during or after the fight… he wasn't sure. And of course, Annie would go on to become another one of Vicious' many victims… bad memories, most definitely.

The myriad of Colt .45's and various M1911 knockoffs reminded him of both Julia and Vicious. They had both shared a fondness for the relatively simple and ancient single-action designs. Stainless steel… that had been her favorite finish. Smooth, sexy and dangerous… just like its handler.

"Anything you like?"

The voice, deep for a woman's, and heavily accented, came from the clerk behind the counter. The sound was very Russian, which was no surprise, as the name of the shop he was currently standing in was Fedotovich Firearms and Ammunition.

He glanced at the name tag, a generic plastic piece that read _my name is: SVETLANA, how may I help you_, the name itself written in magic marker using bold, jagged capital letters.

"I'm just browsing for the moment." replied Spike.

"You are to buy something, no?" the woman asked, somewhat curtly.

"I _was _planning on purchasing something." replied Spike, annoyed by the woman's tone.

"Forgive me. It's just lately, many come to look and touch, but not buy. We not selling enough to, eh… 'make ends meet'… as they like to say. My husband and I have three young children you know, and if we not selling bullets, we not eating borscht."

"Right…" replied Spike, who made little effort to conceal the fact that he couldn't care less about the woman's life story. A quick study of her face revealed more wrinkles than a mother of young children should have. Her cheeks and nose were puffy and red; their lack of income certainly hadn't affected her vodka indulgence.

"You wouldn't happen to have any Jericho 941's in stock, would you?" he asked.

"Which?"

"The Jericho Model 941, manufactured by IMI."

"No, we not have those, sorry."

_Not a surprise…_ thought Spike. The gun hadn't been made in sixty or seventy years, making it all the more valuable. If Ten was truly smart, he'd sell Spike's 941 and make off with the dough. Of course, that would make his quest to recover the stolen weapon a bit more difficult, but not impossible.

Glancing down at a glass display case, he spotted a Ruger P85. He'd owned one up until recently, when it was pawned in the name of hunger. It had always been a decent, reliable weapon, and Spike decided to give this one a shot.

However, as he was about to ask the keeper to take it out for him, he spotted something interesting in the case to the left; a Ceska CZ-75. And not just any CZ-75; judging by the rounded trigger guard and spurred hammer, it appeared to Spike to be one of the original models, considered by some to be the holy grail of sidearms. It was so highly revered in its day that even his beloved Jericho 941 had been based off of its design.

Even better, it was only five thousand woolongs, which meant that the one who appraised it was not terribly well educated in the world of firearms, as an original model in lousy shape could still fetch nearly ten grand. This one appeared to be in nearly immaculate condition, from what he could tell.

"I'd like to see this one." said Spike, pointing down at the weapon.

"Ah, yes, that one came in yesterday." said the woman as she retrieved it. "Eh… you have license?"

"Excuse me?"

"Gun owner license, you have?"

"Uhh… No." said Spike as mentally kicked himself for forgetting about the Martian license requirement. It had never been an issue before; most of his guns had been given to him, and he'd bought the Jericho on earth, where license laws were few and far between.

"I'm sorry, I can not sell without license."

"Can't we work out some kind of deal? I mean, I have the money right on me." He retrieved a cash card from his pocket and held it up to show her.

"No license, no gun. Now I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Now hold on a minute, Svetlana. I think you should hear my offer before you throw me out."

She stared at Spike, giving him a thorough visual evaluation. "I'm listening."

"I'm willing to pay you an extra thousand woolongs for that CZ."

"No good."

"Okay, how about an extra two thousand then?"

She thought about it for a moment before declining once again.

Spike sighed heavily. "Alright, how much are you looking for?"

"Ten thousand."

He winced. "How about seventy-five hundred?"

She shook her head.

"Eight?"

The woman paused again, considering. Spike knew he had her. "Come on, Svetlana… think of your children... you don't want them to go hungry, do you?"

"Eighty-two fifty." said the woman.

"Deal… assuming it's in good working order, of course."

The shopkeeper rolled her eyes and placed the weapon on the counter. Spike gripped it and held it up. "Bullets and borscht, huh..." He muttered to himself as he examined the finish on the weapon.

He then began a thorough inspection, which included partial disassembly. He found that it looked as good on the inside as it did externally. After a few dry firings, he was sold. He picked out a box of nine millimeter ammunition, a few spare magazines, a maintenance kit and finally a case to go with his new gun. Once that was all set, he reached into his pocket and handed the woman the money card. She quickly went to the register and swiped it, waiting a moment for the confirmation to come up on the screen. She did a slight double take when it finally appeared

"The name on this account says Faye Valentine."

"So?"

"That is woman's name, right?"

"Uh, well…" Spike cleared his throat. "Normally, yes. See, my parents really wanted a girl…"

The woman turned the flat panel monitor towards Spike and stood there with her arms folded, eyeing him obvious suspicion. On the screen was the lousiest picture of Faye he'd ever thought possible. Of course, that meant his pathetic ruse had just been busted because _someone_ had elected to emply the photo I.D. option on her card. It was time to come clean.

"Okay, here's the truth. I'm a bounty hunter. Faye Valentine is a bounty hunter… my partner actually. I'm borrowing her card."

"Why did you lie before?"

"Look, the money's there. Just run it, alright?"

The woman harrumphed and did as he asked, and moments later she handed the card back. Spike grabbed it, but she didn't let go immediately. Instead, she leaned in and stared him straight in the eye.

"Thank you for your purchase." she said. "Please… do not come into our shop ever again."

* * *

"Spike's not the only one who's allowed to have fun around here..." said Faye as she examined herself in front of a full length mirror. She was back to her usual yellow hot pants, which, in all actuality, was something she hardly wore around the Bebop anymore.

After giving herself a few sprays of alluring perfume, she was ready for more gambling, this time at the orbiting casino, which operated on Zulu time rather than Mars time. Breaking herself away from the mirror, she grabbed her gun and shoved it into a specially created inside pocket in her red jacket. She then picked her purse up off of the floor and reached inside for her card, only to find that it wasn't there.

_Well that's odd… I just saw it in here earlier._

She searched throughout her room for it, not locating it on the night stand or on her makeshift dresser. She began to grow a bit apprehensive as she searched through her clothing to no avail. After dumping the contents of her purse onto the bed and still not finding it, she was in full blown panic mode.

"Shit!"

* * *

After enjoying a nice, hour-long session with his bonsai trees, Jet casually strolled into the living room... only to find Faye in the process of tearing it to pieces. Any thoughts of peace and serenity gained over the previous sixty minutes were gone from his mind in a flash.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"My card is missing!" She yelled, dropping to her hands and knees behind the sofa to feel around the tight space underneath.

"Slow down… Your what?"

Her head popped up from behind the backrest. She looked desperate. "My money card, Jet. It's gone!"

"What? How did that happen?"

"How the hell should I know?" replied Faye as she stood up.

"Well… where did you last have it?" asked Jet.

"It was in my purse. I saw it in there when I set it down in my room, so I know I didn't lose it at the casino."

"And now it's gone?"

"Yes!"

"Are you saying that someone took it?" asked Jet.

His query stopped her dead in her tracks, and she gave him an angry, piercing glare.

"Hey, don't look at me." He said while raising his hands defensively. "I'm not stupid enough to pull a stunt like that."

"Then that only leaves… No, he couldn't have." said Faye as she lowered her gaze a bit, remembering her last conversation with Spike.

"…_Just stepping out to do a little shopping…" _

"I'm gonna kill him." She said, and raised her head suddenly, staring directly at Jet, her face red with rage. "Don't try to stop me!"

"Well now wait a minute, Faye… you can't seriously believe that Spike would've… I mean, you don't even know for sure yet."

"I'll know soon enough!" she yelled as she pulled her Glock from her jacket and began pacing maniacally. "He is so dead… I swear to God… I'm gonna tear his fuckin' nuts off and put em' in a goddamn blender and then shoot the whole mess out into space!"

She paused for a split second, and screamed one last obscenity before storming out of the room, leaving a dazed and bewildered Jet to his lonesome. He took a seat on the couch, laying down shortly after to rest his suddenly weary head.

_I need a vacation… _

* * *

Wow, one chapter and I've already got 11 reviews and counting! Thank you all so much!

Kendra, as far as the other story goes, I have no plans to finish it; it's dead as far as I'm concerned. Oh, wait, bad choice of words… hey now, put that knife down… c'mon, lets be civil here… NOOO!


	3. Three

I don't own Cowboy Bebop…

_**Precious Things – Chapter Three**_

She wanted to stay mad at him… really, she did.

Faye Valentine wanted to scream and shout and kick Spike's ass from one end of the Bebop to the other, and then do it all over again, because damn it, that bastard deserved it. So why was her rage fading so quickly? Even she had to admit, it was rather unlike her to be quick to forgive, especially when money was involved.

The answer, of course, was right above her head. Those bullet holes were still there, after all.

The memory of watching through tear stained eyes as he made what should have been his final departure remained strong as it flashed back in her mind. She'd nearly lost him forever that day... was it simply good fortune that brought him back? Was it fate… or maybe a little divine intervention?

It didn't really matter. He was alive… and after all, it was just money, right? He'd have to do much worse than steal a little cash to change the fact that she was eternally grateful to whatever power had kept him breathing. Well… as long as he didn't make a habit of it, anyway.

The sound of the door opening signaled Spike's was approach. She remained right where she was, leaning back against the wall. She listened to his footsteps as they drew closer, and he arrived moments later, holding a black plastic case in his right hand. He was walking rather awkwardly as he tried to avoid putting too much pressure on his bad foot.

"Hold it right there, cowboy." She said without looking at him.

Spike froze upon hearing her voice. "I thought I told you not to wait up for me." He said with a small grin.

"Since when did I ever listen to you?" She replied, cocking her head slightly. "Now up against the wall… _honey_."

Her verbal command caused Spike to snort loudly. "What, is this some kind of come on?"

"You wish… now move it!"

His amusement grew as he complied, backing up against the opposite wall. Slowly, she sauntered over to where he stood, narrowing her eyes as she glared at him.

"Alright, spread em'." She ordered. His grin became rather crooked as he widened his stance and raised his arms. "And wipe that stupid smile off your face."

"Not a chance."

Faye rolled her eyes, and then began to forcibly search his pockets, starting with the ones on his jacket. "Aggressive, aren't we?" said Spike as he began to squirm a little.

"Shut up…" she mumbled in response, reaching into the small pouch inside his coat. Upon finding nothing there, she pushed the right flap of his jacket out of the way and shoved her hand into the front pants pocket, catching Spike delightfully off guard as she began reaching around, his body reacting in unexpected but interesting ways.

"Oh… Faye… I didn't know you felt this way…" He said with a smirk.

To his mild disappointment, she yanked her hand free of the pocket, along with the item she'd been searching for. She held her missing card up in front of his face as her cheeks began to redden in anger. "What is this?"

"Your money card." He replied as he relaxed his stance.

"That's right, Einstein. _My_ money card." She said, raising her voice slightly as she waved the valuable chunk of plastic in front of him. "What the hell gives you the right to barge into _my_ quarters and steal _my_ money card?"

"Personal security?"

"Personal security?" she repeated, puzzled. She glanced at the object held in his right hand. "What the hell did you buy?"

"See for yourself." replied Spike. "I'm getting tired of holding it anyway."

Taking the case from him, she held it flat in her hand as she popped the latches and opened it. After peering inside for a couple of seconds she shut it closed. "What the hell did you buy a gun for?"

"Bounty hunting." He replied, the grin never having left his face.

"Smart ass…" she muttered, while handing back the case. "Don't you have a backup?"

"I did… but Jet and I pawned ours to buy supplies."

"What? When was this?" asked Faye as she crossed her arms in front of her.

"When you took your little vacation two months ago; you cleaned us out before you left, remember?"

Her brow furrowed a bit, taking offense to his accusation. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't a vacation, I was attempting to locate a family member, you insensitive clod! Second, what the hell possessed you two to go and pawn your backups?"

"Hunger."

She groaned, shaking her head. "Whatever… if you needed to buy a gun so badly, why didn't you just ask me for the money? I would have borrowed you some."

"And let you fleece me to the bone afterwards?" said Spike. "No thanks."

"Excuse me?"

"I remember what you did to Jet. You took damn near everything but his dignity… and you certainly tried your best to lay claim to that, too. Poor guy…"

"I… Well…" Faye knew he had her there. She knew that she could be pretty brutal when it came to collecting on a debt. "I wouldn't have done that this time…" she said, averting her gaze toward the floor.

"I almost believe you." said Spike.

"It still doesn't give you the right the steal from me!" she spat into his face, her anger once again flaring. It receded just as quickly, however, and she turned away once again.

"You could probably use a new bandage." She said. "I'll meet you down below"

Leaving him behind in the hall, Faye disappeared down the corridor, and Spike let out a deep breath once she was out of earshot. "Well… that was fun." he said to himself as he began to hobble along in pursuit.

Upon entering the living room, he found that Faye had already taken a seat in the chair.

"You know, you ruined a perfectly good night of gambling by stealing my card." She said as he plopped down on the sofa, propping his wounded foot up on the table. Faye, much to Spike's surprise, began taking off his shoe for him.

"You were going out again?" he asked. "Don't you ever sleep?"

"What can I say? I've had a hot hand lately." She replied.

"Yeah, well don't worry." said Spike as he watched her carefully remove his sock. "You'll be back to hemorrhaging cash like a drunken stockbroker in no time."

His comment caused her to raise an eyebrow. "You know, it's funny you say that, considering that you and Jet are always the ones borrowing from me."

"Hey, I haven't 'borrowed' anything." said Spike. "I stole that money fair and square."

Faye couldn't help but smile a bit as she held back a slight laugh while slowly unwrapping the gauze from his foot.

"For that matter, you 'borrow' from us all the time without asking." He added. "So I think we're pretty even."

"Yeah… we'll see about that." said Faye. She stood up from the chair, his bandage only partially undone. "Wait here. I'm gonna go find the med kit."

As she left the room, Spike exhaled loudly and leaned back into the sofa, thinking about their exchange in the corridor. He was struck by how his body had reacted when she'd conducted her 'search'. Feeling her so close, with her slender hands touching him, even if it wasn't exactly gentle… it had been surprisingly exciting, but at the same time, a bit disturbing.

He certainly couldn't deny that Faye was an attractive woman, especially when she wore something other than that ridiculous yellow thing, but there was a major difference between finding someone physically attractive and seeing them as desirable. For the first time since he'd met the cunning shrew of a woman, he'd felt pangs of the latter back in the hallway.

That was what disturbed him.

_It's been way too long since I've been laid… yeah… that's all it is._

Faye soon made her return, retaking her seat in the chair and setting the kit on the table next to his foot. She went back to work on the half unwound bandage, humming a tune that was familiar to Spike. A tune that he'd heard Julia sing to him once, and Faye had sang it before as well.

What had he said that time? Now he remembered…

"You've sung that before…"

"Huh?" said Faye, looking up from her work. "Oh… yeah. I guess I have." A slight smile touched her lips, which faded as she looked down again at the freshly uncovered wound.

"Do you remember what I told you the last time you sang it?" asked Spike.

"I remember bashing you with a pillow." She replied with a snort and a smirk as she tossed the old bandage aside. "I think you said I was tone-deaf or something. Why, am I _bothering_ you again?"

"I lied."

"Huh?" She looked up again, surprised.

"You weren't off key." He said, keeping his gaze fixed on the wound in his foot. .

"Oh…" she said, lowering her head to hide the sudden and unexpected blush that hit her. She was having trouble believing her ears.

"Why did you lie?" she asked. "Was it just to get a rise out of me, as usual?"

"Not really..."

"Then… why?"

A half-grin formed on his lips as a somewhat distant look dwelled in his eyes. "I'll tell you about it sometime… maybe."

She knew that badgering him would accomplish nothing, so Faye looked away again and attempted to get back to the task at hand, all the while noticing that her heart rate had jumped a bit. She was still completely floored by the fact that he'd complimented her singing…

Well okay, so it wasn't really a compliment. In fact, he hadn't even said that she had a nice voice. All he'd done was confess that he'd lied about her being off key. But still, for Spike Spiegel to even do that much came as a complete and utter shock to her.

What made him bring it up? The question was going to bug her for some time. Was he feeling guilty about the card? Probably not. Remorse was also highly unusual for him, especially over anything relating to her.

So what was it then?

"Faye… Faye!"

Spike's raised voice startled her, which meant that he'd succeed in bringing her back to planet Bebop. She looked up at him again, and noticed that he'd just lit up a smoke, and was attempting to hand her one. Grabbing it with a slightly shaky hand, she immediately placed it between her lips. Spike quickly followed with a flaming Zippo, and as soon as it was lit, she took a massive drag, hoping that the smoke would hide the fact that she was totally flustered.

"Did you have a nice trip?" he asked.

"Huh? I have no idea what you're talking about" she replied as she threw herself back into action on his foot.

"You were totally spacing there, Faye. Admit it."

"So what if I was." She said with a hint of attitude. "You do it all the time."

"Whatever…" he mumbled while rubbing his eyes. The fact that he'd been up for nearly twenty three hours straight was starting to become evident. He glanced at Faye; she was looking extremely weary as well.

Spike knew they needed to get some shut-eye while they could, as Jet was tirelessly hunting for leads via his sources down on the ground. As soon as he found something, they'd have to be out the door in a flash, sleep or no sleep. And even if Jet didn't find anything good, he was probably going to end up spending the next day down there anyway, attempting to gather info the old fashioned way. The sooner they could pack it in, the better.

Working in silence, with her cigarette dangling a long ash dangerously near the rubbing alcohol, Faye quickly put the finishing touches on his new bandage. "There… all set. Not that you deserved my help or anything."

"Of course not…." said Spike as he watched her stamp out her smoke, and then stand up. "So when are they going to nominate you for sainthood?"

"Probably on the same day Satan starts wearing a winter jacket." She deadpanned. "Good night, Spike."

"Yeah… ditto." He said as he watched her leave the room for the evening. With a huge yawn, he fully stretched his lanky frame, then stood up and removed his coat. He quickly returned to the couch to lie down for the night, his jacket acting as a makeshift blanket.

In spite of his fatigue, his mind began to wander towards Faye almost immediately. He certainly hadn't planned on the part where he'd impulsively fessed up about her singing. What really seemed strange to him was it had actually felt kind of good to do so, not that it had been some big weight on his chest or anything.

Of course, her reaction had been more than worth the price of admission. He'd never seen her blush like that, _ever._ In fact, he was rather surprised at how strongly she'd reacted, because Faye Valentine was the last person who cared what he thought about her… right?

As Spike drifted off to sleep, his last thought was how the only thing that could have made it all better was if she'd had on something other than that hideous banana yellow nightmare of an outfit. Even her usual tank top and cotton shorts would have been far preferable… or better yet, that dark red dress that hugged her curves so nicely and left little to the imagination up top...

…_My God, It's official. I have gone completely insane. _

* * *

Ten certainly was a quick son-of-a-bitch; the little shit flowed like water through the dense street crowds.

Regardless, Spike was not going to be denied, and he kept pace with the nimble bounty, gaining on him even. As they rounded a corner into a dark, vacant alleyway, he found himself hot on the heels of his target. After about twenty yards, Ten rounded another corner only to find himself standing in a dead end alleyway. He turned around to face Spike as his stance went defensive.

"This is you're last chance, Ten. Where's the gun?" asked Spike as he slowly approached the small man.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

The two stared each other down for a moment, before Ten made the first move, a weak attempt to deke Spike so he could flee down the opposite alleyway. It didn't work, and Spike brought his right foot to bear on his head. Ten barely dodged the attack, and the two became fully engaged in hand to hand combat.

The scuffle was more one sided than it should have been. Ten was certainly skilled as a fighter, but so was Spike, and his intense determination gave him the edge. Within seconds, the bounty hunter had his man on the ropes. After a leg sweep that Ten couldn't avoid, the bounty was on the ground, and before he could make another move, Spike's fist collided with his jaw. It must have felt to the small man like the hammer of Thor.

"Where's my Jericho, Ten?"

"I don't know!" screamed the bloodied and desperate criminal.

"Wrong answer…" Spike struck him brutally in the face again, before grabbing him by the collar and bringing his bruised and beaten face to his. "Where is it! Tell me, you piece of shit!"

"I… I dunno… I gave it to some guy…"

With a teeth baring growl, Spike's anger reached critical mass, and he sent another thundering punch which immediately felled the man. The interrogation was now over as Spike repeatedly beat his bounty further towards unconsciousness.

Cold rain began to fall, stinging Spike's face and the back of his neck like tiny, icy daggers. He grabbed his brutalized victim once again by the collar, only to find eyes as cold as death itself staring back at him. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the flowing silver strands of hair spread about the man's battered visage. The angular face displayed the most sinister of smiles...

_Vicious…._

Letting out a guttural scream, Spike lost all control as he began wailing on the horrible sight in front of him. With a devastating uppercut, he sent the man flying back to his feet. His enemy stumbled backward against a dumpster at the end of the alley, but before he could collapse back to the ground, Spike was on him again, punching and kicking with the kind of force that would kill an average man.

"It's… all gone… you fucking bastard! She's gone!" screamed Spike as he pulled back to catch his breath. He stared down his opponent as he gathered himself. The facial features of the monster before him were no longer visible to Spike, hidden behind the falling rain, and the wet and bloodied hair that clung to his face. A low, evil laughter began emanating from deep within his nemesis, quickly growing into a maniacal howl.

Again, Spike lost all control. The man he was striking was pinned awkwardly against the dumpster as Spike unleashed a volley of blows to both the body and the head. The sickening sound bones cracking filled the air as he continued his assault. After another minute of relentless punishment Spike grabbed a fistful of his opponent's hair in order to pull him back up. He paled when he noticed the color of the locks gripped within his fist..

_Blonde_… _Oh God…_

Spike held his breath as he brushed the mottled strands of hair from his victim's face, revealing porcelain skin, bruised and bloodied. A soft pair of blue eyes bore straight into his, tears falling from them as they merged with the blood and rainwater on her skin.

"_It was raining that day as well…" _

"Julia… I… God, I'm sorry…"

A soft hand was brought to his cheek, caressing it softly, before falling limply to the side. She was beginning to grow heavy in his arms.

"_Why did you love me?" _

"Julia… Stay with me… Please!"

The life quickly faded from the woman's eyes as her entire body began sliding towards the ground. He caught her as this happened, and he gently lowered her down as his own tears began to fall. He knelt down beside the woman and brought her cool, damp forehead to his body involuntarily shuddered with deep sobs.

"No… Julia… No!"

* * *

Spike opened his eyes in a flash, his lungs heaving deep breaths in and out. His pillow was soaked with cold sweat, along with his entire body. As his senses awakened, he heard the dull hum of the ship once again, and his eyes began focusing on the ceiling fan whirling above him. Without looking, he reached over to the table, blindly fumbling for a cigarette and his lighter. He quickly lit up, and after a long drag, he exhaled with a shudder as his heart continued to pound in his chest.

_This shit has got to stop…_

* * *

Well, there it is, chapter three. A big thank to all my reviewers… I love the feedback. Sorry for the amount of time this is taking. I have a lot of crap going on (working one job while hunting for a better one, not to mention a time consuming recording project with a group of "retired" Milwaukee musicians), so it's really hard to find time to write, and when I do, I have to be in the mood. Hope you all can bear with me, as I have a really good idea of where this whole thing is going.


	4. Four

I don't own Cowboy Bebop…

**_Precious Things – Chapter Four_**

The Ibuprofen definitely wasn't cutting it.

Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be had over the counter that would relieve the pain in Spike's foot, a throbbing that was only amplified by his walking on it. He would need an opiate of some kind… or maybe one of those new prescription synthetics, if he really wanted to kill the pain.

A few months earlier, he'd had enough Percocet on hand to kill a herd of elephants. He took as few as possible given the agony he was in, but after a couple of weeks on the potent medication, he could feel his body yearning for the soothing high not out of pain, but because of what was becoming a growing addiction. The need for it had gained strength as the days passed, and he was fully aware of what was happening and why.

Finally, late one night, his body wracked in pain and soaked in sweat, he'd dumped the whole bottle of pills down the toilet and never looked back. The ensuing withdrawal had been harder than he'd expected, and his body was still a working disaster at the time, but it had been the right thing to do in the end, he figured. He wasn't about to let a little blue tablet rule his dreary life, and that wasn't going to change now, no matter how bad his foot felt.

Grimacing, Spike leaned back against the filthy wall behind him as he took the weight off of his wounded appendage, which was bothering him much worse than it had the first day for some reason. Seeing his obvious discomfort, both of his comrades had tried their damnedest that morning to convince him to stay behind and let Jet fill in for this one, but he was on a mission, pain, and a lack of sleep be damned. Now he wondered to himself if it was all merely a fool's bravado. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he was guilty of _that._

He looked at the apartment door across from him, waiting and hoping to see Chen Ten's ugly mug coming through on its way to meeting his fist. He would then reclaim his Jericho, assuming Ten still had it, and maybe recoup a bit of his dignity as well. A quick and clean capture would do much to boost his wounded ego. He was tempted to forget about the half-assed plan Faye had thought up by simply busting down the door, but another bolt of pain from his foot reminded him that it might be best to let Faye do most of the leg work.

Their lead had led the bounty hunters to one of the oldest remaining housing projects on Mars, constructed in the late twenties for the workers and their families new to the Martian world. Over time, the workers moved on, and the failures amongst the planet's affluent ranks replaced them. The twenty-story structure looked like hell from the outside, Spike had thought, but the interior was worse. He'd stepped over what seemed like a dozen homeless drunks in the hallways and stairwells (the elevators were long since out of service), not to mention the garbage piles he'd had to navigate. There were cracks and holes in the drywall in places where the wallpaper was long gone. Everything around him possessed the awful stench of urine.

Faye had gone straight to the roof upon arrival, and was now busily navigating her way down the fire escape. The idea was for her to come in through the window outside apartment 14-B, hopefully catching Ten and subduing him before he knew what hit him. If he got away, Plan B would have Spike apprehending the bounty in the hallway outside.

Of course, all of this depended on whether or not Jet's tip hunting had actually paid off. The anonymous lead had claimed that Ten was here to visit an old flame before fleeing Mars for good, and it had even provided them the specific apartment to look for. Spike had notified Faye when he'd located 14-B on the southwest corner of the building, and she'd burst into action in a flash. However, as she made her way down the rusted iron stairs, she began to have some doubts. If the tip was wrong, they might have a hell of an expensive mess on their hands…

Finally making it to the fourteenth floor, she paused to examine her options. There were two windows within reach, both with shades closed. The one to the left would require a bit of precarious balancing, so she made the obvious choice to take the easier way in.

"Spike, I'm on fourteen." She whispered.

"_I'm ready when you are" _was his reply over her earpiece.

She acknowledged his reply and quickly and quietly set up four tiny explosive charges on each corner of the window. As soon as they were ready, she ran to the other side of the iron platform and ducked as the charges blew out the window, frame and all.

Entering the building with her weapon drawn barely a second later, Faye found herself standing inside a small bedroom. She could hear a feminine shrieking, and she made out two figures through the smoke, huddled together on the bed.

"Don't move a God-damned muscle!" she ordered, pointing her Glock at the pair. The fog of her entrance was already beginning to clear, and she could now see that the screamer was a petite brunette who was hiding behind and holding on for dear life to the butchest looking chick Faye had ever laid eyes on. She wouldn't have even guessed it was female if it wasn't for the pair of double-D's nearly bursting through the "Dykes on Bikes" tee that she wore.

"Shit…" muttered Faye as it became obvious that the tip was false. Just in case, she searched the rest of the tiny apartment, but found no one else inside.

"We got a bogus lead Spike! He's not here!" she said, frustrated. Biker-woman approached Faye, looking understandably pissed, and apparently unaware, or perhaps not caring that she was completely bottomless. _Here we go…_

Spike sighed, slumping his shoulders as he overheard Faye trying to lamely apologize to the terrified and angry resident. He didn't need the micro-comm to eavesdrop; they were plenty loud enough to be heard out in the hallway.

As he listened to his comrade order the occupant to 'put some pants on for God's sake', he heard a door open down the hall to his right. He glanced in that direction, and much to his surprise, he saw Ten with duffel bag in hand and by his side, an unidentified Asian woman whom he guessed was the old flame. They pair was not more than thirty feet away from him.

Leaving his woman behind, Ten bolted towards the stairs while yelling something unintelligible to Spike. His painful foot suddenly forgotten, he immediately gave chase. "Faye, I got him! He's headed down the southeast stairwell!" he said into his ear piece as the unidentified woman screamed from the top of the stairs in a language he didn't care to understand.

_You can run, Ten, but you're not getting away this time. _

Faye cursed and hurried to the door, leaving behind the two scared and angry lesbians, one of whom was frantically calling the ISSP. As she listened to Spike's breath pounding over the micro-comm, she paused for a split second to get her bearings before locating and rushing towards the southeast stairwell, ignoring the worried Asian woman who stood there.

Meanwhile, Spike was nearing the first floor, and by this time, Ten had gained a bit of distance on him, having the advantage of not being hobbled by a residual gunshot wound. Reaching the ground floor, the bounty hunter burst through one door, then another, finally ending up outside of the front entrance, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He looked around but could not spot Ten anywhere.

"Spike! Where are you?" said Faye over the communicator. "And where's Ten?"

"I dunno… I lost him again… shit!" said Spike between his harsh breathing.

"What do you mean you lost him?" yelled Faye, making Spike wince a bit. "Damn it…" she continued. "I knew you weren't up for this! What the hell were you thinking, insisting that you could hunt with a shot up foot?" The ranting continued, and rather than arguing, Spike simply yanked out his ear piece and chucked it down a nearby curb drain, not caring how many thousands of woolongs the damn thing had cost.

Just then, he heard a loud rattle and hum from his right, and he turned to find a garage door opening further down the face of the building. A moment later, a small, dark blue civilian MONO ship emerged and began to rise into the sky, but not before Spike was able to identify its pilot as their target, Chen Ten.

Sprinting with renewed vigor, Spike headed towards the Swordfish II, which was parked down the block in the opposite direction, obstructing two lanes of street traffic. He climbed inside and had it fired up and ready for flight in record time. He took off, the blast from his engine sending passersby scurrying for shelter. As soon as he was clear of the skyline, he began searching the skies for Ten's ship, and managed to spot it two o'clock high as it was entering a near vertical climb. Spike opened up the throttle, confident that his old MONO-racer could easily catch a slower civilian spacecraft. Before long, they were clear of the city, and his surroundings began to darken as the G-forces mounted.

Spike smiled as he glanced down at the display in front of him, monitoring the closure between himself and Ten. He began arming the plasma cannon, readying it for action. The altitude was piling up, and he realized that they would be in orbit sooner rather than later. Guessing that Ten was trying to flee the planet, He quickly brought up the current orbital location of Mars' Hyperspace Gate, and breathed a small sigh of relief when his screen showed that it was halfway around the planet from them, meaning that Spike had plenty of time to get his man.

Ten's ship was getting closer, and the Swordfish's was locked & loaded. Spike lined up his target for the shot, and had his finger on the trigger, ready to fire when in range, which was prominently ticking down on his heads-up display. He needed to get close enough so he could carefully aim to disable Ten's ride without killing the occupant.

_Come on… Just a little closer…_

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" came Faye's harsh voice over the radio, startling him just enough to throw his aim off. "And why in the hell did you-" she was cut off as Spike killed the radio.

"Sorry, Faye." He muttered to himself. "Now is _not_ the time."

Lining up the shot once again, Spike found that Ten was almost _too_ close now. Nonetheless, he mashed the trigger and the plasma cannon roared to life, sending a white hot energy beam toward his prey. Much to Spike's surprise, Ten avoided the shot by sending his ship into a sudden dive that actually served to level off his orbit. The move caused the Swordfish II to overshoot badly, and he was forced to back off the throttle and reorient himself.

Maneuvering to set up another shot, he leveled off as well, but as he did that, another ship passed him overhead dangerously close, catching him totally off guard as it filled his view.

It was the Redtail.

_How in the hell…?_

He hastily flipped the radio back on as he stared incredulously at his intrepid comrade's gunship as it streaked through the vacuum of space. "And you think _I'm _out of my fucking mind?" said Spike.

"Yeah, well I'm not the one who tried to ditch his partner!" She retorted angrily. "What happened to your God damned micro-comm?"

"I threw it away." replied Spike.

"You _what?_" asked Faye. "Why'd you do that?" The tone of her voice made it obvious that if she could, she'd reach through the speaker and strangle him.

"Same reason I'm doing this." He said as he cut the connection for good. Hoping to avoid further distraction, Spike took a deep breath and began searching for Ten's ship. He spotted it a few seconds later, the small spacecraft twinkling like a star as it reflected the distant sunlight. Pushing the throttle to the stops, he gripped the control handles tightly as the G-forces pushed against him. He resumed the chase while wondering how Faye had managed to keep up.

With his finger on the trigger, he once again had his eyes on the range finder. Then, incredibly, he spotted the Redtail closing in on Ten from above… and well ahead of Spike. _Shit, she's gonna get there first! _

His jaw went slack as Faye launched a battery of heat seeking missiles, and he then watched in amazement as Ten slammed his ship around and went full burner, which caused his main engine to essentially act like a massive speed brake to slow down his forward momentum. This move would normally cause a ship to quickly fall out of orbit, but Ten kept his craft's nose pointed up at a fourty-five degree angle to prevent his ship from bleeding altitude too quickly. The missiles turned to follow, but they decelerated too quickly, losing altitude and eventually falling harmlessly towards the surface once out of propellant.

Spike knew at that moment that he wasn't dealing with an average pilot. Ten continued to surprise him with his resourcefulness, and he could only smile as the bounty and his ship streaked by and beneath the Swordfish II. Spike rolled his ship and performed the same maneuver, and as the massive deceleration hit him, he watched beneath him as the small blue craft reversed course again to level off its decent.

_Now's my chance! _

Realizing he had a small window where Ten would have difficulty evading any sort of attack, he hastily cut power to twenty five percent, dropped his nose, and attempted to let his continued deceleration walk the gun-sight right into the center of his target. It was a good plan, but unbeknownst to him, Faye, after watching her missiles fail to reverse course in orbit, had performed the very same reversing maneuver, and was still decelerating with her engine at full power, putting her on course to pass right between the Swordfish II and their bounty.

With a sudden, ninety degree change in attitude, Faye brought the blue ship into view and prepared to one-up Spike once again, this time with a gatling blast that would surely disable Ten's ride for good. But as she rolled back the throttle to ease her own rapid descent, the space in front of her lit up as a white hot plasma beam appeared directly in front of her. She realized with shock and horror that she was flying straight into it.

On pure instinct, she yawed the Redtail hard to the right, which kept her from flying cockpit first into the beam, likely saving her from being fried instantly. The maneuver was not enough to avoid it completely, however, and her ship shuddered heavily as the beam cut deep into the aft portion.

Spike never saw the Redtail until the damage had been done. One moment, he was watching Ten's ship helplessly float into his plasma beam like a lamb for the slaughter, and the next, he was witnessing an explosion that appeared to be a split second too soon, and had also seemed to be much closer than it should have been. Then he saw it, and Spike's heart instantly sank like a stone. He immediately got on the radio to check on his imperiled comrade. "Jesus Christ! Faye, are you alright?"

He waited in silence for a few tense moments as he wondered if he'd finally done the shrew woman in somehow. He was immensely relieved to hear her voice shouting back at him moments later.

"What the hell are you trying to do, kill me? "Faye screamed over the radio.

"You'd be just fine if you would have stayed the hell out of my way!" retorted Spike. Gritting his teeth, he quickly brought his anger under control, as he knew it was of no use to argue with her at the moment. "Whats the damage?"

"Everything!" she cried in frustration. "My warning panel's lit up brighter than Las Vegas!"

"What about propulsion?" asked Spike.

"Dead." replied Faye as she cycled through various screens on her console. "It isn't restarting either… I think you took out the generator. Shit… my fuel cell's gone too!"

"Are you running off the backup batteries?"

"Yeah."

Several crackles and pops sounded behind Faye. She turned around just as the automatic extinguishers let loose, making it even harder to see in the smoky cockpit.

"What the hell was that?" asked Spike.

"Damn it…" muttered Faye as she returned to her console. "That was the air scrubber shorting out on me."

"Shit…" said Spike under his breath. Losing the scrubbers meant losing clean, breathable air in the cockpit.

"I can't see a damned thing in here." said Faye, and she coughed a few times. .

"Get your suit on, Faye. That air can't be too good to breathe anymore."

"Way ahead of you…" she replied as she ripped her space suit from behind her seat and began wriggling her way into it.

Remembering the bounty, Spike looked around and realized that Ten was long gone. At that moment, Faye and her disabled ship seemed like the biggest ball and chain in all of the universe.

_Damn... why does that woman have to be so insufferable? If she'd have just backed the hell off, this would never have happened… _

_Fuck it. I'm not gonna sit here with my thumb up my ass while Ten waltzes off to the gate unchecked…_

Spike turned his ship around and brought it back to full throttle. He began climbing to regain the altitude he'd lost since the friendly fire incident occurred, resuming the chase that had been momentarily halted.

"Faye… I'm going after Ten. You just hang tight."

"What?" she erupted. "Wait just a minute. You are _not_ leaving me here, Spike."

"Ten's gonna make it to the gate if I don't!" he replied.

"Well, call the ISSP and have them blockade it then!"

"And lose the bounty? Forget it."

"Damn it! My o2 lights are on!" pleaded Faye. "I'm probably… no, I'm _definitely_ leaking oxygen!"

"How bad?" said Spike as Ten's ship came into view well off in the distance.

"Tank one…" Faye coughed again as she checked her o2 status on her console. "…sixty two percent and falling fast… Tank two… shit! Zero percent!"

The tone of her voice made Spike take notice; she'd never sounded quite so scared before. "Just finish getting your suit on." he said. "You'll have eight hours of air with that. I'll call Jet and get him there with plenty time to spare."

"Spike, you filthy bastard! When we get back, I'm gonna put my foot up your ass so hard you grandkids wi-"

Everything went silent, this time without Spike cutting her off. With mounting concern, he cycled through the frequencies to try and raise her, but got nothing in response. He wondered if if her radio had merely given out, or if the whole ship had lost power.

The situation for Faye was definitely not good; the Redtail was rapidly dying around her, and Spike was well aware that she was in real danger. He wrestled with the decision of whether or not to turn back, but his hard resolve to bag Ten before he fled Mars was too strong, and he stayed the course.

Faye would have to fend for herself.

* * *

Aboard the Redtail, things had gone from impossibly bad to worse. The ship had suffered a complete electrical failure, effectively killing off what few functioning systems she had left. Both oxygen tanks were empty by now, leaving her completely reliant on her suit to survive until Jet's arrival. Her beloved gunship, which had taken her to the ends of the solar system and had bailed her out so many times in the past, was now a lifeless heap of machinery floating through space.

She attempted to take a deep breath to gather herself, but ended up choking instead on the noxious fumes flooding the cockpit, sending her into another coughing fit. Her frustration hit the breaking point, causing her anger to flare over, her rage directed entirely towards her comrade who, in her mind, had abandoned her.

"God damn you, Spike!" she yelled at the top of her lungs as tears stung at her eyes. "This is all your fault, you reckless asshole!" she continued, wishing that he could actually hear her. "How can you just up and leave me here to rot like this?"

She began hacking again, and decided she couldn't wait any longer. Donning her helmet, she then locked it into place by pressing two buttons on either side of the helmet under the collar, which simultaneously sealed and pressurized her suit, and also opened the electronic o2 regulator valves. She glanced down at the oxygen gauge on her left forearm, and felt reassured by the readout showing that her tank was full.

Feeling a little safer in her suit, she decided to do something about the blinding smoke that filled the cabin. Fumbling for the pressure controls behind the seat, she manually opened the valves, venting all of the smoke, and with it, the last tiny bit of breathable cockpit air out into space.

Now that she could see again, she found that she had a wonderfully full view of Mars, a sight that actually had her worried, and for good reason. She was in a low orbit… dangerously low. At her altitude, it was just a matter of time before the Redtail, with her still in it, would succumb to Mars' gravitational pull and begin an uncontrolled atmospheric re-entry that would be guaranteed to burn her precious craft to an unidentifiable crisp, taking her with it in the process. And having lost her propulsion, there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

Trying to push that thought out of her mind, she turned around, bumping head first into her hand held comm-link which was floating in front of her. The device wasn't of much use now, seeing as how her cabin was completely depressurized. She could try to make a call with it, but no one would be able to hear her now, nor could she hear them. It almost made her regret opening the valves.

Still, if worse came to worse, she could use the comm-link to send a distress signal to the ISSP, though the repercussions of doing so would be massive. She technically wasn't licensed to operate a Class C Modular MONO-Gunship, and there were plenty of other blots on her record that could make things messy. All of this made the option of calling the authorities a last ditch plan in her mind.

Just for the hell of it, Faye activated her suit's internal two-way radio to see if anyone was close enough to hear her. No dice; the radio had a range of up to ten miles in space, depending on the level of interference in the area. Judging by the amount of static she was receiving, she figured her current range was much less than that.

The intense feeling of isolation was never stronger then at that moment. Being alone wasn't something she normally minded, but the disabled Redtail was beginning to seem something like a coffin or a prison cell, and she do nothing but wait for someone to rescue her. Naturally, she hated the whole situation to pieces. The fact that she was mostly, if not entirely dependant on her fellow crewmembers to rescue her was even worse. What if Spike, for whatever reason, hadn't actually contacted Jet? The thought seemed kind of ridiculous, but it still nagged at her. She had to try to push it out of her mind. He wouldn't just forget about her… right?

The urge to try contacting the Bebop herself suddenly became a powerful one. But what good would it do if they couldn't actually talk to each other? Her hand-held comm-link did have the video transmitter, but a strictly video communication without any knowledge of sign language would be beyond cumbersome. Still…

Snatching the communicator from where it was floating, she quickly speed-dialed the Bebop, and then waited. Much to her relief, the balding pate of Jet Black appeared on the screen.

"Jet! I need your help!" she yelled out loud, in spite of the fact that the sound would never make it beyond the inside of her helmet. Jet was talking as well, and she watched as he became visibly confused and frustrated. She mouthed the letters S-O-S in exaggerated fashion, but neither of them were lip readers, and it was all getting them no where.

As Faye cursed to herself over the futility of their communication, Jet's eyes lit up, and he held up his index finger, signaling her to stand by. She waited patiently for a few seconds as he disappeared from view, and then the next thing she saw was one of the computer console screens on the bridge of the Bebop. Jet had typed up a message for her:

_I'm already on the way. Will be there in about 90 minutes. Conserve o2, and don't do anything stupid. _

The message on the screen was a bit blurry at first, and Faye had to blink a couple of times to bring the full message into focus. Jet's face reappeared, and she gave him a small grin to acknowledge her understanding. She mouthed a thank you to her older comrade, and then the connection was cut, and her comm-link was once again floating through the cockpit as she resumed waiting for rescue.

As she watched the communicator drift away from her, Faye noticed the blurriness in her vision had returned. She tried to blink it away again, but it only seemed to get worse, and at that moment she found that she was feeling a bit short of breath as well.

That was definitely not a good sign.

Waving her hand in front of her face, Faye found that her dizziness was getting the better of her by the second, and she only grew more disoriented. She tried to take a deep breath, but it felt even shallower than the last.

_What the hell is going on? _

The symptoms were obvious; she wasn't getting enough oxygen. She looked at the LCD readout on her forearm once again, and found it still indicated that her tanks were full. A sense of panic crept over her, which she tried desperately to suppress. She needed to think hard and fast. Why wasn't she getting oxygen? Did one of the electronic o2 valves fail?

Deciding that was as good a place to start as any, she blindly fumbled for the manual release latch on the left underside of her life-support pack. Her limbs felt extremely stiff now, and she was losing a bit of dexterity in her hands. She finally found the tiny handle, and yanked on it.

Nothing happened.

She pulled on it again several times, and then gave up as sweat poured down her face. A massive wave of nausea overcame her as carbon-dioxide began permeating her body, and seconds later, she hurled the remains of her breakfast all over the inside of her helmet, making her conditions even more miserable.

Her head was getting foggier with each breathless moment, which hampered her attempts to think her way out of her dire predicament. Panic was now in full grip, and she dry heaved once more as she began sobbing. She found that she was peering through a tunnel; the blackness was closing in from all sides now.

The logical portion of her brain was telling her to try and send a distress signal with the comm-link, but it was being drowned out by her terror as a horrifying realization settled in her mind.

_God… I'm going to die in here!_

With that thought pummeling her head like a heavyweight boxer, she almost didn't see the light blinking out of the corner of her rapidly narrowing field of vision, which was further obscured by the vomit clinging to the inside of her face shield. As her lungs burned, desperate for oxygen, she realized that the light was from her comm-link; someone was calling!

Her body feeling as if it was made of lead, Faye somehow managed to muster the strength to grasp the communicator and activate it. As the picture came up, she found that the only thing she could make out on the screen was an ill-defined mossy blob with a patch of white underneath. She puzzled for a second, but then it hit her.

_Spike!_

"Help me…Spike… _Please_…" she said, her weak voice straining to make a sound, which barely registered within the confines of her helmet. Her next attempt to speak died on her tongue as the last vestiges of consciousness drifted away from her.

_I want to go home…_

* * *

"_Houston, we have a problem…"_

Yes, I have risen like the phoenix from the ashes, returning from the dead to bring you another chapter.

Well, okay, so it isn't quite that dramatic. I sure hope the story is however! I guess that's kind of a wicked cliffhanger there, eh? Sorry, I had to end it somewhere. This chap's well over the 4,800 word mark already.

Thanks to all my reviewers. I look forward to hearing from you again!


	5. Five

I don't own Cowboy Bebop…

**_Precious Things – Chapter Five_**

"_She what?!?" _

Spike flinched ever so slightly at the harsh sound of Jet's voice. The radio's crappy signal to noise ratio always managed to add extra edge to the Black Dog's already menacing bark.

Spike thumbed the microphone button on the right control handle and spoke up. "She stuck her pretty little nose where she shouldn't have, Jet."

A long and frustrated groan was heard from the elder bounty hunter. "Figures… so what are we going to do about it?"

"The Redtail is wasted" replied Spike. "Faye probably doesn't have a lot of time, so you'd better hustle if you don't want to lose that extra mouth to feed."

"_I _have to hustle?" asked Jet. "What's keeping you from lending a helping hand?"

"A five and a half foot pain in the ass" answered Spike.

_Now am I chasing that pain in the ass, or did I just leave it behind?_

As he vainly tried to clear his thoughts, Spike's eyes fixated on his range indicator, watching the time and distance to target tick steadily down once again. He double and triple and triple checked his weapons settings. After all that had happened, he didn't want any more foul-ups.

Sweat dripped from his brow, forcing him to wipe it away with the sleeve of his jacket. His heart was racing, and his stomach was turning in knots, all because of a certain purple-haired ditz who had managed to blunder her way into his line of fire at exactly the wrong moment. _What the hell was that woman thinking? _

"God damn it all!"

Spike cursed loudly as he shoved the controls hard to starboard and felt the immense G-forces slam him from the side. The Swordfish did another hard about-face, and was once again flying tail first against its own orbital momentum. Spike modulated his throttle and angle of attack to maintain course towards his goal.

"Five seconds…" muttered Spike, disgusted. "Five fucking measly little seconds…"

Five seconds was as close as Spike had gotten to being in firing range of Chen Ten before his conscience, something he wouldn't admit to possessing even under the influence of sodium pentothal, decided to take over.

Ten was going to get away with his Jericho and a hefty slice of his pride as a man and bounty hunter, all because Faye had blundered into his line of fire at exactly the wrong moment.

Knowing that the Redtail's communication gear was likely kaput, Spike dialed Faye's comm-link to warn her of his pending return. It dawned on him that she wouldn't be able to talk back from inside her suit as her blurry visage came into view. The picture was lousy, but he could tell that something was not right. When she began to float out of view, limbs dangling in zero-G, his concern deepened immensely.

Spike clicked off the comm-link and began eyeballing the space through his forward canopy, waiting for Faye's busted ship to finally come into view and hoping that the sick feeling growing within him was all for naught.

_

* * *

_

The destruction Spike had inadvertently wrought upon the Redtail was awe inspiring to say the least. He admired his handiwork through the glass canopy as he donned his helmet in preparation of his impending space walk.

_Why the hell am I doing this? _

The question ran through Spike's head over and over like a broken record as pure oxygen began to seep into his helmet.

"Faye…" said Spike into his radio mouthpiece. "If you're fucking with me…" his voice drifted off as his muscles began to twitch at the thought of Ten leisurely coasting into the relative safety of the gate system with his prized weapon.

Giving up on the radio, Spike snatched his CZ 75 from its zero gravity drift and holstered it on the thigh of his suit for safe keeping. After venting the cockpit, he grabbed his trusty crowbar and opened the hatch of the Swordfish II. "Alright Faye, here I come. You'd better not be wasting my time."

There was nothing but silence from his headset as Spike quickly covered the twenty feet or so separating his ship from the Redtail. He grabbed onto the stricken ship's external latching mechanism and gave it a good yank. No dice; it was securely locked, as he expected it would be. Only the occupant within had the ability to open it.

Spike peered inside, and saw the lifeless silhouette of his comrade framed against the vivid red surface of Mars. The sight made his blood turn cold.

"Faye, open the God damned hatch!" screamed Spike into the void as he pounded on the glass with the crowbar out of his growing frustration. The thought of a dead Faye Valentine floating before him entered his mind, and an unexpected wave of nausea hit him like a punch in the gut.

Attacking the latch mechanism with the crowbar, Spike managed to pry away the metal plating that covered it in a matter of seconds. Busting the lock was another matter. He began pounding and prying, but gave up after a few short seconds when an idea seized him.

Grabbing his sidearm from his thigh, Spike chambered a round and fired twice into the exposed mechanism, sending sparks and metal parts flying off into space. In his haste, however, he'd failed to grab onto anything, and he found himself tumbling ass over teakettle away from the Redtail thanks to the recoil from his weapon.

"Shit… shit… shit!" muttered Spike as an unfamiliar panic began to set in. Regaining his wits, he thrust the CZ 75 behind him and fired four shots, two to stop the tumbling, and two to reverse his momentum and get him back to the Redtail.

Returning to the ship a few torturously long seconds later, Spike jammed the crowbar into the center of the pressure lock and heaved with all of his might. It gave way almost immediately, and he hastily swung the hatch open and burst inside the relatively cramped cockpit.

Approaching the lifeless figure floating before him, Spike grabbed Faye's helmet and tried to examine her face. He found he could barely make it out through the reflections shimmering across its face. She felt like dead weight in his arms, and he knew right then that there was little time, if any, left for his partner.

* * *

There weren't many places in the galaxy more ill equipped for Cardio-Pulmonary Resuscitation than the tiny, cramped cockpit of the Swordfish II. If it wasn't for the fact that Jet had invested some of their hard earned woolongs in a set of PADs (Portable Automatic Defibrillators) a few months earlier, he knew that Faye would have absolutely no chance of survival. Nonetheless, her odds were plummeting with each and every torturous second that passed.

Faye was lying with her back on the pilot's seat with her legs crunched up against the side of the hull in a manner that would be excruciating for any conscious individual.

Spike tried desperately to keep one eye on the holographic display above the PAD while simultaneously providing chest compressions and rescue breathing to his imperiled comrade. He listened intently as the calm female voice explained where to attach the shock pads. He quickly realized that her top was going to have to go.

He quickly worked to expose her from the waist up, the urgency of the situation suppressing any potentially distracting thoughts. Her sickly pale greenish-blue skin tone only aided his focus.

After attaching the pads to her chest, the defibrillator immediately began preparing to fire the first charge. _"Charging. Stand Clear"_ ordered the voice in the box, and Spike scrambled to a safe distance by contouring his lanky frame against the canopy glass overhead.

A loud thump echoed in the cockpit, and Faye's limp body suddenly arched toward him. Her lifeless eyes were wide open, staring directly into his. The true horror of the situation was becoming far too apparent to the normally cool and collected bounty hunter.

Faye collapsed back onto the seat and the defibrillator spoke again in its unnaturally calm voice. _"No pulse. Resume chest compressions and rescue breathing."_

"Shit!"

Spike continued the CPR. As he did this he began to wonder just how long she'd been down. He craned his head around to his console to glance at the time. It had been at least ten to fifteen minutes since he'd last communicated with her via radio.

Guilt began to overtake him, and he breathed harsh curses with each push against her chest. Sweat covered his face, and hot tears of frustration stung at the corners of his eyes. _"Charging. Stand Clear" _

Spike quickly assumed his previous position against the overhead canopy. _Please… please… if there is a God out there… please…_

Another sickening thump sounded in the tiny cabin of the Swordfish II, and Faye was once again contorted and gasping in nightmarish fashion. After she settled back onto the seat, Spike waited for what seemed like an eternity for the PAD to tell him what to do.

"_Pulse detected. Continue rescue breathing" _

A bolt of elation shot through him. _She has a pulse! _

The joy was tempered, of course, by the knowledge that a pulse means nothing without respiration. The chest compressions were now abandoned in favor of mouth-to-mouth breaths every five seconds.

Once… twice… three times he breathed into her. He counted out loud just as Jet did the day he and Faye suffered through his dull CPR lesson. He'd never thought he'd have to use it on someone he cared about. After all, he'd have to actually care about someone for that to happen.

"One-one thousand… two-one thousand… three one thousand… four one thousand… five one thousand…"

He locked lips with her for another breath. Faye suddenly jerked beneath him as he exhaled, and a gagging cough was followed by a revolting spurt of fluid directly into Spike's open mouth. He sputtered, backing away reflexively. She coughed again, and the foul taste was forgotten in an instant.

Another shot of adrenaline surged within him as he tried to keep her head level and airway clear. "That's it. Breathe! Come on Faye, breathe!"

He placed as hand on her cheek as he watched the color slowly return to her face. Her eyes were now closed as she coughed and gasped in ragged fits.

"Breathe for me, baby. Breathe…" continued Spike, who was nearly breathless himself, his heart pounding mercilessly. Faye jerked beneath him as she suddenly moved her legs from their uncomfortable position. He backed off, and she rolled to the side and coughed up a significant wad of the same vile treat Spike had enjoyed a moment earlier. As she continued to hack away violently, Spike, in a surprising move, found himself stroking the bare skin of back in encouragement. "That's it, Faye. Keep it up, baby. Breathe!"

The thought that his encouragement almost resembled a husband coaching a wife in labor seemed both silly and out of place. It was quickly forgotten when he noticed that her coughing had lessened a little. Harsh sobs were now intermixed with gasps for air.

He hastily yanked away the shock pads that had remained stuck to her chest. He then carefully moved her into a more upright position, with her bottom hovering just above his lap. He placed his hands on her cheeks and looked into her horrendously fatigued and bloodshot eyes. She looked terrible, but she was alive. They locked stares for a moment, and Faye said his name in a slow, barely audible whisper.

It was at that moment that Spike lost his capacity for words.

After a few dumb-founded seconds, he cradled her head against his chest with nervous hands and nuzzled her hair as he felt the reassuring movement of her breathing. He finally allowed himself a deep breath as well.

The hard part was over now, or so he thought as he eyed the controls of his ship. All he needed to do was fly them home. No problem... if only he could get his hands to stop shaking.

* * *

Jet knew something like this would happen someday. With a reckless pair of comrades like his, a fatal or near fatal screw-up of this magnitude was only a matter of time.

However, if you were to tell him that Spike Spiegel would save the life of Faye Valentine via CPR and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, he would call you crazy. Of course, life with such a dynamic pair was nothing if not crazy.

He studied his haggard looking partner from the opposite end of the main room as Spike's countenance turned sour once again.

"Her tanks were empty" said Spike, his statement hanging in the smoke filled air on the bridge of the Bebop.

"Well, that sort of thing tends to happened when you cut a ship in half in deep space" was Jet's eventual reply.

"I meant the tanks in her suit."

Spike's tone and facial expression seemed a tad accusatory to Jet. "Hey don't look at me! I'm not responsible for your damned suits!" He quickly collected himself and then continued. "She obviously didn't inspect her gear beforehand. That's not my fault."

Spike broke eye contact and took a long drag from his cigarette. Jet could see just how drained he was. There was something else, something he hadn't seen before. The carefree, shit-eating grin was nowhere to be found, nor could he picture it on him in this state.

In its place was concern. Lines of worry creased Spike's normally youthful visage in a way akin to a husband or father worrying over a sick wife or child. It made him look… older.

The obvious source of Spike's worry (and his own for that matter) was lying on the old couch in the main room of the Bebop, hooked up to a few medical devices he'd managed to accumulate over the years. She was alive, most definitely, and the brain scan showed no damage, though his diagnostic equipment was obsolete and had been wrong before. Time would only tell if she'd suffer any long term affects due to her mishap.

Of course, if this incident had somehow given the lanky tin-man the heart that he'd seemingly lost long before he'd met him, then things were certainly going to get even more interesting. He could already tell that Spike had turned a big corner that day. What that meant for him, Faye, and their collective future he could only guess.

Jet took a seat at his console and lit up a small cigar. Leaning back into the chair, he resigned himself to being a spectator of the obnoxious circus aboard his old rusted ship yet again.

* * *

Yay, an update. Not an overly long one, but an update nonetheless.

I am not terribly confident in the accuracy in which I portrayed Faye's resuscitation. I made the PAD acronym up, though I do know that such machines exist today. I don't want to hear a lot of snide bitching about the other details, however. Just kindly give me the facts on how I screwed up, please. Be glad that I updated this thing after letting you all hang like an evil bastard for a year and three months.

P.S.: Firearms can in fact be fired in space. They did that in the show as well so I don't want any crap for that either.

Till next time...


	6. Six

I don't own Cowboy Bebop…

_**Precious Things – Chapter Six**_

The sound of Faye's o2 gear hitting the metal floor echoed loudly in the cavernous hanger of the _Bebop._

Spike and Jet immediately went to work, disassembling and inspecting the rig piece by piece to try to find the culprit that had led to the empty tanks - and nearly to Faye's demise.

The first suspect was the main valve. Jet separated it from the rest of the gear and began a thorough inspection with a set of magnification goggles. Spike sat across from him, his long legs folded Indian-style beneath him. He puffed away on a cigarette while failing miserably at feigning disinterest or even patience.

Jet sighed as he pulled his goggles from his eyes. "Seems fine to me; no serious cracks or wear that I can see."

Without replying, Spike leaned over and he hastily snatched the valve from Jet's hands so as to conduct his own naked-eye inspection. Having already given up on on it as a contributing factor, Jet began disassembling the second suspect - the emergency release valve.

Meanwhile, the man across from him painstakingly eyeballed every inch of the main valve. His vague understanding of its mechanics certainly did not aid him in his endeavor, but nonetheless, he failed to spot anything amiss with it.

Jet let out a deep "oh…" of discovery, which got Spike's attention.

"Here it is…" said Jet as he held a small chunk of rubber between his left thumb and forefinger while simultaneously removing his goggles with the other hand. "It's the o-ring from the emergency valve. You don't need magnification to see that this thing is done for."

Spike examined the small rubber ring, which certainly looked worse for wear. Tiny chunks were missing, and there was a significant tear on one side. "Slow leak through the emergency valve… that answers one question. Didn't she ever get that thing inspected?"

"Knowing her… doubtful" replied Jet.

"Okay… the second question is this: how the hell did she fail to notice that her tanks were empty?"

Jet held up the small LCD gauge that had been on the sleeve of Faye's suit. "This might have something to do with it." He tossed the device into his partner's lap. After retrieving it, Spike visually scanned the tiny screen. He nearly spit out his cigarette when he saw the readout indicating that the tanks were full.

"What the hell…?"

He began pushing the buttons adjacent to the screen, but nothing changed on the readout.

"Have you figured it out yet?" asked Jet knowingly.

"It's not reading right… doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that"

"It's not even connected right now" said Jet. "It shouldn't be reading anything."

"It's like its frozen or something..." Spike continued to push buttons in an attempt to reset the obviously faulty gauge, but to no avail. Finally, he yanked the cover off the back, scattering its small batteries onto the floor. The screen and its horrible lie immediately fell dim forever. "So let me get this straight: her emergency valve fails, slow-leaking all of her oxygen and at the same time, her gauge goes tits on her in a big way, keeping her in the dark about the whole thing until it's too late."

"That about sums it up, I guess."

"Un-fucking-believable" Spike sighed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"That's usually the story" said Jet. "I've seen it a thousand times… things rarely go to shit from one thing only; it's usually a series of failures at the wrong time that sends you to St. Peter."

The fact that Faye had been left high and dry by Spike was one of those failures, Jet knew, but he wasn't going to rub salt into the wound this time. He watched his fluffy-haired comrade, now flopped onto his back, puffing on the remainder of his smoke. He looked as miserable he'd ever been. There was no need to exacerbate things; Spike was feeling guilty enough already, and that was unusual in and of itself.

"It definitely was careless on her part" said Jet, breaking the silence. "You always test your gauge before every trip - that's spacewalking 101. And I don't even wanna hazard a guess as to why she went with such a cheap piece of crap for an o2 gauge. I don't think the manufacturer is even in business anymore."

"I doubt she knew how to really operate it" said Spike.

"I don't buy that" replied Jet. "You and I have both seen her fly and fight. She's a crazy bitch in the air and on the ground, but there's some serious skill there. I don't see her being that incompetent."

"It's not that much of a stretch" countered Spike. "She's been alone since they pulled her from the cooler. I doubt there was anyone there to hold her hand and show her the ropes along the way. That slob she bagged a while back, the ex-boyfriend, was obviously useless."

Spike sat up and faced Jet. "Imagine being frozen and then defrosted a half-century later. You know nothing about this new world; everyone and everything you knew before is gone. Then some slimy asshole dumps his skeletons on you and makes them stick. You're on your own, on the run, with no one there to save you. You have to learn a new set of rules and skills all on your own just to stay alive and free. Even you'd be scared shitless, Jet."

The ex-cop was completely and utterly speechless. Spike showing empathy? Toward _Faye?_ It was almost too much for Jet to take. His lanky partner clearly harbored some level of respect for their intrepid female comrade that had been kept well hidden… until now.

"I would go as far as saying that she's been winging it all along with a lot of stuff we take for granted" continued Spike. "Of course, she'd never ask for any help at this point. I guess her luck just ran out."

"Well, not totally…" said Jet. "She had a knight in shabby purple armor there to save the day."

"Yeah…" said Spike, standing up. He tossed the LCD gauge into the air…

…and with blinding speed he drew his CZ and shattered the offending hunk of plastic into a thousand shards with a single bullet.

_That same 'knight' is the one who pushed her to the brink in the first place..._

* * *

The sharp crack of Spike's pistol rang harshly through the metal corridors of the Bebop, causing the unconscious woman lying on the old yellow sofa to stir.

Moments later, Faye's eyelashes fluttered a bit before cracking open ever so slightly. The room was its usual dimly lit self, sparing her sensitive eyes from any painful light adjustments. Of course, the intense rush of pain that wracked her entire body was another matter. She felt like she'd been broadsided by a meteor. Every breath sent a wave of intense pain rocketing through her midsection. Panic was starting to set in; the extreme difficulty in breathing was causing her head to spin. Tears quickly formed in the corners of her eyes.

Another sharp bolt of pain sent her rolling off the couch, knocking over the I.V. pump that had been steadily beeping for the last few hours. The needle in her right arm ripped loose, and blood began to seep from the wound left behind. Lying face down on the floor, Faye managed to find a breathing rhythm that she could sustain without causing intense pain. The cold steel floor felt wonderful against her burning skin.

She attempted to gain her bearings. The yellow couch and metal floor answered one question, that of her location - she was obviously back aboard the Bebop. But why did she feel like she'd been run over by a steamroller? She decided to worry about that later. Her only concern now was to find something, anything to ease the pain; pills, booze, whatever she could get her hands on. A bullet to the brain might even do the trick… if she could only find her pistol.

As her shaky arms struggled to prop herself back up into a sitting position, her two male comrades entered the room. They immediately froze at the sight of Faye, sprawled on the floor, agony etched across her pale, sweaty brow.

"Faye?" said the two in unison.

She collapsed back onto the floor, panting harshly. "Pain… need… something… for… pain"

"Well don't just stand there, help her!" boomed Jet as he gave Spike a shove in her direction.

Once at her side, Spike attempted to help her up onto the sofa. Faye let out a piercing shriek; her helper was being just a tad too rough.

"Jeez, Spike. She's not a sack of potatoes. Be careful!"

"No shit!" Spike shot back as he cradled her beneath his arms and gingerly lifted her back onto the couch. Once she was situated, he sat down on the table.

At the same time, Jet was assessing the damage to the I.V. pump. There was a large crack in the faceplate that was particularly disconcerting. He then took notice of the empty morphine syringe within it, a sight that made his blood pressure skyrocket.

"God damn it, Spike!" he barked. "Her drip was bone dry!"

"How is that my fault?" replied Spike as he dampened a white cloth with a bottle of drinking water.

"It was your turn to change the damn thing!"

"No it wasn't! It was _your _turn!"

"Bullshit! I had the evens, and you had the odds!" Jet pointed at his watch. "It's almost 8pm. I'd wager to say that this thing has been dry since at least five!"

"You're the one who insisted on such a rapid drip, _Dr. Black_!" Spike turned toward their patient and began to wipe up the blood on her arm. "Are you trying to turn her into an addict or something? That's just what we need."

Jet sighed heavily to calm himself. "Have you ever had CPR done on you?"

"No... at least not that I'm aware of."Spike twisted around and reached into the medical kit on the table. "Have you?"

"No."

A low growl was heard from the younger man as he fumbled with the wrapper of an adhesive bandage. "What's your point, Jet?"

"CPR is brutal, my friend. It may save lives, but it's roughly akin to getting bricks dropped on your chest for ten minutes."

Flashing back to the cramped crew capsule aboard the Swordfish, Spike recalled the struggle to save his comrade. He replayed the chest compressions in his mind. It had been intensely fatiguing for him; his arms and shoulders were _still_ sore. Of course, all that energy had been directed into Faye's upper torso. The realization of what she was struggling to endure only added to the burgeoning guilt within him.

"Fuck!" shouted Jet. Spike took notice, as it was rare for the older man to drop the F-Bomb.

"What's the problem now?"

"This pump is wasted. Do you have any idea how much these things cost?"

"More than we have right now, I'm sure."

"That's right." Jet sighed once again, and then he glanced at Faye. She looked like utter hell. "Those morphine syringes are designed for this pump. It's gonna be hell to get the juice into a regular needle syringe."

"Are those all we have?" asked Spike.

"Yep."

"Shit…" muttered Spike, then a thought hit him. "Wait! I should still have some pills left over from before… you know…"

Jet was on the same page immediately. "What were those again?"

"Percocets… made me higher than Jesus. They should still be in my room."

"Gotcha." Jet quickly left to go search Spike's rarely utilized quarters.

Spike tossed the stained cloth onto the table and then looked down at Faye. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing very gingerly through clenched teeth. The palm of her left hand rested against her damp forehead.

"How ya doin' Faye?" said Spike.

Her only response was a brief groan.

"I hear ya. Hang in there."

* * *

Hours later, Faye was sound asleep on the sofa. Spike sat in the chair across from her, chain smoking his way through a long, self imposed vigil. Jet was out in the Hammerhead attempting to haul the remains of the Redtail back home.

Shortly after two in the morning, Faye awoke. The pain was still strong, but not as debilitating is it was earlier. She sat up on the couch and then leaned over to pinch a cigarette from Spike's pack lying on the table. The first few drags burned within her lungs, but it was a good kind of burn, one that distracted her from her overall soreness.

Spike had dozed off, but the stirring across from him was enough to get his attention. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find Faye sitting upright and smoking.

Faye pulled the cigarette from her lips. "Hey…" she said with a weak smile.

"Well hello there... How are you feeling?"

"Like death on toast." She took another drag, wincing in the process. "God… I could use some drugs. What, was Jet too cheap to hook up the morphine pump?"

Spike chuckled slightly. "No. Actually we burned through a half dozen syringes before you destroyed the pump."

"Huh? _I _destroyed the pump?"

"Yeah, don't you remember? You belly-flopped off the couch and knocked it over."

"No… wait… oh... I remember pain and the floor, that's about it." Faye grabbed the bottle of water off the table and took a huge swig, ignoring the fact that it was room temperature. Anything wet was welcome at the moment, as her raw throat was making it somewhat difficult to talk. Of course, it would take more than a sore throat to silence Faye Valentine, even if she wasn't pissed off at the moment. "Oh yeah, and you guys were arguing about… CPR?"

"Yeah, sort of…"

Faye paused for a moment, staring at the bottle in her hand. The puzzle began to come together in her mind. Pain in her chest… CPR…

She suddenly remembered being in the Redtail, the smoke filling the cabin, the sounds of her dying ship, the desperation… She remembered donning her space suit, and then… nothing.

More memories began flooding back, but from not from her final moments in the Redtail. They were strange memories: a bright light… going through a tunnel… her entire life flashing before her eyes like some crazy movie… These memories made no sense; they were fragmented visions outside of any conceivable timeline.

As Spike watched Faye nervously chew her thumbnail while staring off into space, his concern grew. "Faye?"

There was no response. He reached into her general line of sight with his right hand and waved. "Hello... Over here..." Still nothing. Impatience began to set in. "Faye!" he shouted, louder than intended.

The pale woman looked up, startled. "Huh?"

"You're doing the space cadet routine again. What's the matter with you? "

"Oh… sorry."

Faye began to wince noticably as she breathed. She looked absolutely miserable; the pain had obviously returned full bore. "Here" said Spike as he grabbed the bottle of Percocets off the table and tossed it into Faye's lap. "It should be safe to take another one now." After pouring one of the circular blue pills into her hand, she popped it into her mouth and washed it down with more warm water. She then put out her unfinished cigarette and laid back down on the sofa, gingerly easing hersulf under the flimsy covers.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"Did I… die?"

The question was unexpected. Spike thought about his answer for a brief moment. "Yes… and no."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're obviously not dead now."

"That's good to know."

There was an alarming sincerety in her voice.

"So what happened?" she asked.

"You passed out in the Redtail" he answered. "You had no oxygen and… your heart stopped."

An audible gasp was heard from Faye. "What happened after that?"

"Well… you needed CPR obviously. You should be glad that Jet insisted on getting those auto-defibrillators…"

"Was it you?" she interrupted.

"Huh?"

"Were you the one that revived me?"

"Yeah."

A tear trickled from her left eye, which did not go unnoticed by her companion. He felt his own heart begin to flicker with emotion as well, an unusual occurance for him.

"So I guess that means you came back for me after all…" said Faye.

"I almost had him too. The prick was dead in my sights"

Faye chuckled lightly in response. "What made you turn around?"

Spike let out a deep breath as he settled into the back of his chair. "Jiminy Cricket."

"Excuse me?"

"My conscience. You know, that little voice inside your head?"

Stunned by his unusually honest answer, Faye let our a brief, hearty laugh. "So even the big bad Spike Spiegel has a conscience. Who'd have thunk?"

This response seemed more like something from the shrew woman of old, which brought a small bit of relief for the man sitting across from her.

The interrogation continued.

"So how long was I down?"

"Not long enough…"

Faye's partially full water bottle smacked off the side of Spike's head. "Ow! I'm kidding, damnit!"

She attempted to feign a look of anger, but that was quickly broken as a smirk twisted its way across her lips. "Did you have to give me mouth to mouth?"

"Yeah… sort of…" Spike nervously rubbed the side of his head where the bottle had struck moments before.

"Sort of?"

"Let's put it this way. I discovered that the only thing that tastes worse than one's own puke is someone else's puke."

"Huh?" Faye thought about it for a second before adding "Eww…"

Silence fell upon the two haggard bounty hunters as Spike lit up his umpteenth cigarette. After watching him take two long drags, Faye spoke once again.

"I'm sorry for puking on you."

Spike laughed. "You didn't just puke _on _me. It was far worse - you puked right in my God damned-"

Faye interrupted. "Save the gory details, okay?"

"Okay."

Another brief pause descended upon the two. However, it would be Spike who broke the silence this time.

"I'm sorry for leaving you there."

Once again she was surprised by his candor. Studying his features, she could see the guilt in his eyes. Forcing a smile, she tried to lighten the mood. "Hey… I made it, didn't I? No harm done, right?"

Spike snorted. "It's was a friggin' miracle…" He took another drag. "I shouldn't have left you there, simple as that."

There was an unusual intensity in his voice which caught Faye off guard. "Jeez, Spike, you're starting to scare me with all of this apologizing crap."

Silence was his reply. He was obviously brooding about the whole thing, which Faye found both amusing and sad at the same time.

"Okay, fine." she said. "If you can be sorry about leaving, then I can be sorry for trying to beat you in capturing Ten."

He laughed, to her relief. "That's pretty rich coming from you. It's not fair either - you already apologized for the puking incident."

"Well... in my defense, I was kind of unconscious for that one." she pouted. "Besides, you'll probably never see that gun of yours again thanks to this whole mess."

"I'll get over the gun."

"Hey, it's my final offer. Take it or leave it."

"Okay, fine." His cigarette dangled precariously between his lips as he spoke. "You're forgiven."

"Deal."

After stubbing out his cancer stick, Spike leaned back and watched the relentless fan whirling above him. It was slowly pulling the remaining smoke toward the ceiling and into a small ventilation shaft, which would carry it to the main air scrubber in the rear of the ship to get lodged in some filter that Jet probably hadn't changed in ages.

"Spike?"

Faye's voice was tiny, but was enough to break his reverie. "Yeah, Faye?"

There was a brief pause as she mentally grasped for the right expression of gratitude. This was new territory for the both of them, after all.

She opted for simplicity.

"Thank you."

Letting the two simple words sink in, Spike suddenly found himself lost in her shimmering emerald eyes. He took a deep breath before answering. "You're welcome."

More silence. Then Faye yawned - the painkiller was taking effect.

"Get some rest. I'm gonna check on Jet."

"Roger that…" said Faye as she closed her weary eyes. Many thoughts stirred within her head, but she was far too exhausted and in way too much pain to give them any proper consideration at the moment. She soon fell back into a deep slumber.

* * *

Well there you have it. Another update.

I'm trying to take the wall around Spike's heart down piece by piece. Trying to do so without making him act totally OOC is a real chore. And then there's Faye...

Man, this is gonna take a lot of work.

Wish me luck!

- Help Computah


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